


Dark Clouds, Horizon Lost

by DealMiamiSummers



Series: Skybound [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: (sortof) - Freeform, Airships, Arcane - Freeform, Blood, F/F, Fantasy, Idiot Prince, Magic, Magic weapons, Nameless Characters, Navel Combat, No Beta, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Prince, Other, Queer Characters, Royalty, Ship to Ship Combat, Violence, air pirates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:13:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24687442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DealMiamiSummers/pseuds/DealMiamiSummers
Summary: After a minor misstep in court, a young imperial Prince with no name of their own is sent on a journey of exile. Aboard their Imperial airship, it slowly dawns on them they might be in more trouble than they thought!
Relationships: Prince/Pirate Captain
Series: Skybound [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1784899
Kudos: 3





	1. Exile

**Author's Note:**

> My first entry in a series taking place in a magical world of air combat and idiot lesbians. E rating for later chapters.

The heart of the ship beat under them again, a great tick reverberating through the timbers and decking the Prince was standing upon. They flashed a nervous glance towards the quarterdeck, but the ship’s Maidens were blocked from sight by the guard rail and by the rigging of the wings stretching across the ship’s width. Sighing, the Prince stepped out of the small shelter they had chased in the shadow of the bowsprit and started towards the aftdeck. Skipping across the ropes and any crew stumbling out of their way. The Prince slid past the great keel that suspended the wing masts to either side of the cutter. Up the steps past the hooded sister holding the wheel. Upon the quarterdeck, the High Sister of the Heart stood. White robes fluttering in the morning breeze, locket beating red on her veiled chest: her psychic link to the engine housed in the decks below. Allowing her to read the winds and find the currents that allowed the ship to slip among the clouds soaring in the great blue sky.

“How may I aid you, Princeling?” Her voice was quiet, but stern. Well suited to a member of the faith, the Prince thought.

“I’ve noticed an irregular twitching of the engine, High Sister. Loath am I to question you on matters of the Heart, I can’t help but be concerned.” The ship was not new by any margin, but a Heart can last far longer than the simple timbers and fibers of the ship that housed it. Hearts were the spiritual core of every flying ship in the arch-navy.

“Your concern is noted, Princeling.” The Sister’s wind creased face pinched into a frown. “Perhaps the engines are not receiving the faith you owe them?” The Sister’s lips peeled back into a grim smile “Don’t tell me your faith in your Queen Mother is slackening Prince. I’d hate to bear such news to her in my next update.”

The Prince shrunk back in anger. It was this Sister’s fault they were stuck on this ship in the first place. Her who reported them to their Queen Mother. Whispered into her ear and turned her against the Prince. They clamped their lips shut, a sickly expression passing over them as they wrestle to hold their tongue. 

“I will be sure to offer my due prayers, then.” The Prince whirled with a huff, their hawk-feathered half cape fluttering dramatically in the air. They would offer their prayers. Pray this ship would run aground and the High Sister lost in the skies below.

The infernal ticking of the engine resounded in the tweendecks of the ship. Down the hatch the Prince climbed into the muggy darkness. Where it reeked of smoke and cloud-damp and the press of too many bodies. After the clear air of the sky it made the Prince retch as they leaned against the bulkheads. Couching down they entered the dark maze of corridors and passages that made up the ships under decks, pressing down and down towards the shrine built into the center of the ship.

The door to the Heart’s shrine was double reinforced, spell woven shut, but the pin on the Prince’s chest flashed red in the dark of the ship and the soft blue light of the wards gently unwove before their eyes. The doors cracked open and a soft voice called out.

“Who’s there?” It was a woman, guarded and weary.

“Peace, sister, it’s only me.” The Prince replied as they pried the door open further.

“Prince, you know the High Sister will have my skin if she finds out you came here!” Her voice was tight and low as the Prince stepped in, revealing the beating red heart in the middle of the chamber and the robed woman oh knelt before it. She was pale and sickly, with her hands and eyes bandaged. Her skin was flushed under the light of the engine beating it’s hollow rhythm behind her.

“I noticed the shuddering and when I brought it to her attention and she availed me to offer my prayers.” They took a knee next to the sister, who was situated on a small cushion. The sister turned herself back to the glowing red engine, its shell shifting and the ceramic plating sliding against itself with a soft hiss with every beat. 

“It’s nervous, this is a war-cutter. The Heart is used to acting in tandem with its brothers and sisters. Not to mention the mission is an inglorious one. Any transport or lighter could have done it.” The sister shot an amused face towards the Prince, “If only our passenger wasn’t such an ill disposed daughter.”

“Daughter.” The prince repeated with a grimace. The sister gasped and brought one bandaged hand up to her open mouth.

“Apologies, my Prince. The High Sister-”

“I know what she’s told you, sister, the whole ship is echoing with it. The wayward fifth daughter who thought she could be High Prince, rising above her station by conniving with the First’s favourite lady in waiting.” The Prince’s mocking face took a sour appearance. “Deciding to identify as neither daughter nor son, like some common escort from the courtesan’s guild.”

“No, you’re no power hungry letch, my Prince. Who else would seek out a lowly keeper, offer such soft words.” The Keeper-sister reached up with her covered hands shakily, feeling for the Prince’s face. The Prince took her hands in their own and placed them on their cheeks, before placing their own hand on the sister’s face.

“You need not name or status to be as lovely and sweet as a breeze across the sky.” The Prince half-recited, before she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the sister’s temple, before nuzzling into her long black hair. The sister-keeper gasped, her mouth falling open.

“How many other sisters have you swayed with such honeyed words?” She asked, coyly. The Prince laughed.

“Not many sisters, no.” They returned to their task of brushing their fingers through her locks. “And none now since I’ve come aboard your ship.” The sister-keeper let out a small noise at that.

“My Prince! You mustn’t! What if the High Sister heard you?”

“Ah sweetling, but when was she last down here? When has she last gazed into the rhythm of the heart’s beat. You are the keeper of this place, and with it, the ship.” The sister-keeper only gaped at them, shock wide on their face. 

The beating of the Ship-Heart behind them sped up, and the sister placed her hand on her own heart to calm it, along with the engine behind her. The High Sister would feel any noticeable irregularities with the heart-shard she wore on her breast. Too much excitement and they’d be found out immediately. Knowing this, the Prince stood.

“I’m loath to leave you, sweetling, but I must go. The High Sister expects me sulking about the deck and that is where I must be.” They stood quickly and brushed their hand along the blind sister’s cheek, swiping their thumb across her lips before twirling with the dramatic flare of their half cape. 

As soon as they left the guarded shrine the Prince noticed an uptick in the energy of the ship. Crew shouting and the boiling sound of dozens of feet pounding the deck and the passages inside the cutter. Climbing the ladder to the main deck the prince emerged into chaos. The crew were crawling over the deck like ants, pulling sails and rigging this way and that. Arming themselves and running cannons into their housings under the shouting of officers and the steady beat of a drum. The Prince winced at the sudden noise and panic, and scampered across to the quarterdeck at the stern of the ship. The High Sister stood conferring with an array of officers and the captain of the cutter. Wind was blowing across the deck and whipping at her robes.

“I do not have the time to entertain you Prince.” The Sister spoke without turning, hawk fierce features pinched in anger. “We are having a minor situation, why not go entertain the sister-keeper in the engine room again. It seems to be all you’re good for.”

The High Sister continued to stare out across the sky, following her gaze the Prince noticed a black shard in the distance. A ship. Flying no colours and sails dark as coal. Pirates of some kind. The Imperial ship and it’s Heart would make a fine prize, one worth fighting for. A fight they’d give. The High Sister was now muttering in a guttural tone, wards sparking to life along the planking of the ship. Invisible sparking blue as their inert ink fizzled into life with the magic breathed into it. Crewmates armed themselves with spike lobbers and disc casters, all humming with the same melody of power.

A deck officer cried out as a hex lapped against the wards of the ship. Black madness licking the blue tinted wing-sails and spilling across thewarded barrier like water over stone. Ineffective, maybe, but still disconcerting. The Pirates obviously had a skilled witch if they’d managed to land a spell from such a distance. Sister-acolytes swarmed the wing that had been tainted, purifying it with buckets of water and prayers to the Queen Mother. The Captain shifted uncomfortably. The lines of their uniform were pristine and it was crisp white, but without badges of merit or medals. The Prince cursed under their breath. Of all the time to have some unblooded noble’s progeny. Set to gain notoriety from their prestigious cargo on a relatively safe sojourn to the summer palace that’d house the exiled Prince.

The pirate ship was closing now, spinning up their engine and flashing their wings like the glider-bugs that choked the spring air. A puff of green smoke briefly obscured the ship, before a dull roar of cannon fire washed over the cutter in a wave. Spikes lashed the air around the ship, only missing them through the wards breath and sheer love of the Queen Mother. 

The pirate’s barraged finished and silence reigned again on the deck but for the prayers of the sister-acolytes and the creaking of the ropes and timbers. A passing cloud cast the cutter in it’s shadow. Then, from the depths of that roiling cloud a drip fell. Black as night and hissing like a winged coatl. It sparked against the ward bubble protecting the navy-cutter. Then another fell. Then another. Soon a torrential downpour of the oily liquid slammed against the shield. Flashing hot streaks of flame like oil in a pan. The sisters on the ship cried out as they surged against the black rain. 

The High Sister at the Prince’s side was driven to one knee as she cast her hands up, great white lines of arcane magic flaring to life and anchoring in the offending cloud. Choking the dark magics that spewed forth. Finally the Captain cried out, the deck officers echoing the command to FIRE! The great cannons rocked back in their housings as arcane power flashed to life and launched the chain shot and superheated lead cannon balls towards the pirates.

Huge cracks resounded in the sky as tongues of lightning flickered out from the black ship and exploded the paltry cannon-fire into a deadly grey mist of metal. The High Sister was sweating as she regained her footing on the rolling deck.

“This is no ordinary pirate Sister!” The Prince cried out from where they’d found shelter behind the wheel housing. “Who flies with such powerful witchcraft? Who could possibly fend off an entire broadside?”

The Sister didn’t bother replying, too busy gathering every trace of moisture in the air between the ships into a great ice lance before hurling it with deadly accuracy at the side of the pirate ship, now merely hundreds of nautical miles away. She screeched in dismay as it boiled away, only barely catching once of the many buzzing wings and reducing it to ash. A hit, yes, but nothing compared to the mass of energy spent. The engine under their feet was humming at a bone shaking blast now. 

The Prince worried desperately for the keeper who was tasked to keep it running and supplying enough power to the ship-mages to defend the vessel. Any hotter and the engine could shatter, ejecting ceramic armour from it like a scatter gun and perforating the inner decks. There were hundreds of horrible ends only seconds away. But the same was true for the rest of the crew. The Prince watched in horror as one of the inordained crewmates screamed with animal terror, completely mad with ambient arcane energy. He was barely caught by his fellows before he leapt from the side of the ship into the vast skies.

The cutter beneath them shuddered again as another broadside was let loose. This time too close to redirect or destroy outright. The cries of dying men, women and others filled the air as the ships exchanged fire. The massive spikes launched by the pirates pierced the hull of the cutter, and super heated iron exploded as it punched holes in the enemy ship. It would only take a few hits before either ship was sunk, but the pirates had the obvious upper hand as dark shackles materialized on the spikes that had hulled the navy cutter. They were pulling them in to take them alive, it seemed.

Horrible screams of timber and the dying mingled as the ship was bodily pulled towards the Black Ship. It was even more terrible up close. Skulls festooning the railings, their dead eyes glowing with fire. Planking etched with maddening sigils both unknown and terrible to behold. A great shattering shook the cutter as a blast of purple fire cooked off the wards. Immediately pirates appeared in the gap. Glittering with blades and swathed in black leather straps. They poured into the breach in the wards and immediately started hacking into the crewmembers around them. The roar of cannons ceasing, replaced with the thrum of the navy arcanic guns and hand weapons. 

The tinny screech of clashing metal filled the air as cutlasses and mage blades met. The Prince was on their feet again, helping the almost depleted High Sister to her feet. They pulled the small mage arm from their belt holster, aiming at an incoming pirate. He was frothing mad and had cutlesses in both hands, their blades red with viscera. The Prince quaked then exhaled, squeezing the trigger and discharging it with the sound of a violin’s string being plucked. The man fell with a wheeze, dropping at the Prince’s polished boots. The Price covered their eyes with the hand that held the sidearm. They felt incredibly sick. Barely supporting the near comatose Sister, they bent double and vomited onto the filthy deck.


	2. Blood Oath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Prince is in a heap of trouble! What silly plot do the hatch to get out?

The stink of magic in the air was heady. It was completely stifling. The Prince was so dizzy with it, almost unable to breath. They gasped as they were pulled bodily by the arm, the Sister ripped away from their arms. The haze of smoke and gunpowder was so thick they were blinded as they were pushed into a circle of fellow captured crewmates and minor sisters. Coughing and choking on the dark smell of rust all around them. They barely noticed more and more of the crew being rounded up around the great keel board.

“Who here can give parole?” A voice shook the sky around them, heavy and sonorous. The crowd of pirates parted ways until a squinting Prince could make out the shouting figure. They were a large woman, the prince guessed by their dressing. A massive black greatcoat left open over a white blouse, unbuttoned enough to show more than enough of her rich dark skin. Ample, she burst forth from the armoured corset that covered her lower torso. Skin tight breeches were shining in the noon sun, their buffed leather almost as sparkling as her black calf boots. The hat though, was the most outrageous piece. It was massive, housing an entire stuffed monkey and tricorns curling up towards the sky precariously, avian skulls perched on the apex of each cone. She was flanked by two sickly pallored twins, identical in feature and clothing. Dark robes flowing and matching haunting grins stretched tight over their skull like faces.

“It seems your captain is indisposed.” The one on the left spoke with a cruel smile.

“Last I checked he was still vomiting what was left of his organs” The twin finished. The athame in their hands were scribed heavily with blood, dripping black gore onto the deck beneath them.

“Enough.” A single word was enough to shake the smiles from their faces. The pirate Captain’s voice was breathy, holding the confidence that absolute power over her crew gave her. “I need one of your officers alive so I can ransom you. So call your parole and we’ll get off this reeking boat.”

Ransom. That was a way out that the Prince knew they had to take. Not only could they save themselves but it might be possible to negotiate what happened to what was left of the crew. The High Sister may have been their enemy but nothing was worse than whatever fate the twin pirate witches would pull from a Sister’s arcane body. They could fuel a hundred years of hexes from the agony of such a powerful mage. 

“Here, Captain.” The Price coughed. Their lungs were still choked with greasy smoke. “I’ll call your parole. My rank will earn at least a hundred pound of gold, but you’ll have to guarantee our lives to get it.”

A smile lit the Captain’s face, harsh lines dropping away and scars alighting in a way that’d be beautiful, if she wasn’t threatening the Prince’s life. Well, mostly. The Prince had to admit they appreciated the Captain’s poise and strength. It was well within rights to respect a worthy foe.

“Well well what a find. Chel, Manning, clean up our Princeling and find them something nice to wear. They’ll be accompanying us on a voyage.” The Prince was aghast.

“H-How the hell do you know who I am?” They screeched.

“Idiot fool. Look at your clothes, your bearing, that achingly blond hair. The Lion eye pin on your jacket. You’ve royal blood in you, and I plan on milking it for every ounce of gold I can. Kill the rest of them.” An image of the sister-keeper in the engine, throat slashed through and blind eyes wide flashed through the Prince’s mind.

“NO! I won’t let you! I’ll bind myself to you. Honour and blood. If you let these people fly free, I’ll swear you a blood oath.” Royal blood could be used for more than gold. From the arcanic prayers of the empire to the more dubious alchemic and necrotic witch-ways.

The Captain erupted in hearty laughter, her crew joining in with their guffaws. “So a pretty little Princeling will become pirate scum with us? Fine. I’ll call your bluff. Chel.” She gestured her free left hand towards the prince and the witch of that side started forward. “See what you can pull from her.”

The Prince’s eyes flash. “Them.” They state flatly.

The roguish Captain swept the massive hat from their head, revealing deep auburn hair done in a sailor’s braid. “Of course. My apologies, Princeling.” Their smile takes on a particularly predatory glint. “No sense in bad blood between bondmates.” The approaching witch cackles with her as she flicks the worst of the blood from her athame, cleaning the rest with a muttered word and a tight grip.

“Name’s Chelling, your royalness.” The witch started, with a mocking bow. on closer inspection her robe was a dark shade of midnight blue, stitched through with constellations picked out in gold embroidery. The deep cowl of her hood obscured her face. The prince flashed their eyes towards the other, her twin brother. Already picking among the dead bodies for talisman and charms left unspent.

“Now now, Princeling.” Chelling pulled the prince’s gaze back to herself with a rough grip on their chin. “It’s rude to look away from a lady who’s about to partake in you.” Her pale blue eyes are shot with purple specks, they pulled the Prince into them and froze her to the core. The witch took the Prince’s hand and brought it between them with sudden gentleness, tracing a quick circle in the Prince’s palm and bisecting it with one long sharp fingernail. 

“This won’t hurt a bit. I promise.” The witch lifted her sparkling knife and jabbed it into the Prince’s hand. A wail immediately pried itself from the Prince’s lips, echoing deep within their chest as an agony they could never have imagined burned its way into her body. Flaring deep from the point where the dagger pieced them and radiated through their arm into their heart. The witch Chelling could barely suppress her glee at the sight. Teeth flashing as their grin spread somehow even wider.

Finally after what felt like an eternity of fire, Chelling pulled the silver dagger from the wound, a gush of blood following it. The blood suspended from the tip of the dagger and bridged the air from the gash in the Prince’s hand. Red and glossy, it shimmered in the crisp air. Billowing softly like a sail. It was beautiful.

“We’re all ready for you, Captain.” The witch Chelling’s voice was sickly sweet as she addressed her lady master, blooded dagger in a firm grip. The Captain’s eyes shone bright under her hat. Her strides wide as she approached the two. 

“Now look at what the pretty Princling was hiding in them.” She took the dagger from the witch’s hand and waved it through the air, blood an undulating current. “I can hardly wait to feel you inside of me” She offered her other hand to Chelling, who had retrieved her brother’s athame, shining clean. The Captain’s face was steady as the witch cut into her palm. Much less viciously, the Prince noted. “I apologize Princeling, it would be dreadfully rude of me to bond you without so much as a name.” Hands full, the Captain leaves her hat on, but mimed a mocking little bow. 

“Captain Jira, and this is the Eye of Jyunno. Ain’t she a beauty?” She turned a fond eye to the cursed black vessel that she commanded, all the warmth of a parent whose eye fell on their child. Not that the exile Prince would even know that. The moment was shattered a second later as Captain Jira’s eyes turned back to the Prince, hardening to stone once more. “And you, you probably don’t even have a name at all do you little Prince?”

The Prince’s back hardened into a shell, shoulders pulling back and forcing themself upright.

“I am the fifth Prince of the Holy Mother of the Empire of Albaran, Felladine V, blessed by her Name.” They uttered in cold monotone, already feeling the sickly veil of blood magic descending upon them. Captain Jira’s mouth pulled up in a dread grin.

“So glad you could join us,  _ Princeling.”  _ The last word ghosted over the Prince’s ears, dripping with contempt. “I’ll have to find a cute pet name for you while you’re on the ship” Jira narrows her eyes in thought before turning to the witch at her side. Chelling was finishing the final incantations and looked to her master for permission. “Do it.” Was all that was needed for the witch to rip the dagger out of the Captain’s hand and twirl it, its line of blood dripping and waving as the two daggers danced in her hands. The blood swirled and bit at each other, as if knowing their unfortunate fates, before finally joining together in one mighty stream. The current of blood split evenly and returned to the two bonders, joining them in kinship, and forcing the Prince to their knees. 

“A fine sight.” The Captain chuckled, before hauling the Prince to their feet. “But we’ve no time for lollygagging Princeling.” The disorientation of the sudden influx of magic power was rippling itself through the Prince’s body, making them wobble. They were bound now, they had to comply with the Captain’s wishes. They were trapped.

The rest of the pirate crew had finished looting the lower decks and were picking amulets and valuables off the imperials. One particularly rough woman had partially ripped the robes of a sister who’s eyes were bound over. Captain Jira stepped in quickly with a great shout.

“Enough! pick up what you found and let’s move, no time to scuttle or play. Who knows when another imperial patrol will show their stinking faces.” The pirates jeered at her before finishing securing the imperial sisters and crewmates and scampered back to their Eye of Jyunno. The brother witch reunited with his sister and together they hauled the Princeling up the boarding planks, past the grinning skulls of the railings and into their new home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading and please leave a comment with what you thought!


End file.
